


Here is now (and now is where I want to be)

by writergirl8



Series: Stydia-fanfiction prompts [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-28 14:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7643488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/pseuds/writergirl8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “Did you get number six?” Kira asks, looking up from her homework.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Lydia Martin opens her mouth to tell her ‘Sherman Antitrust Act,’ and instead says “I had sex with Stiles.”</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>In hindsight, Lydia doesn’t actually know what sort of reaction she had expected from Kira. It’s not like this is the shock of the century. After all, she and Stiles have been dating for a while now. For all Kira knows, they could have been having sex a month ago. But the twinkle in Kira’s eyes, the excitement in her dropped-open mouth, and the way she smiles prettily from ear-to-ear make Lydia’s lips curve up as well. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Here is now (and now is where I want to be)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt for Stydia-fanfiction! 
> 
>  
> 
> _Prompt: "Lydia can’t help it. She has to tell someone. At girls night, she spills the beans. She and Stiles had sex less than a week ago. And it was amazing and gentle and sweet and everything she’d wanted. She tells the girls all about how it happened (three times, might I add). But what she doesn’t know, is Stiles can’t help it either. He’s currently telling Scott all about it as well."_
> 
>  
> 
> I took some liberties, but this is basically it :) I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Tite from lovely cup by Grouplove!

It’s strange, because they’ve spent years and years of their lives building up to this moment, and now that they’re here, Lydia doesn’t quite know what to say. She’s laying on Stiles’ bed, twisted sideways towards him, the weight of his legs on top of hers. Their hands are entwined together next to his pillow, and they’re just breathing.

  
Together. 

  
Not for the last time, but it sort of does feel like the first time. It feels extraordinary and new as Lydia stares across at Stiles, taking in the curve of his eyebrows and the moles on his face. He has exceedingly red lips, or maybe they’re just swollen from kissing. She can’t help but think about them on her skin moments ago, breathing quietly against her as he moved inside of her. 

 

“So,” she says, staring at their fingers. “That… happened.”    
  
“Yeah,” he agrees, looking slightly amused. “It did.”    
  
He takes a breath to speak again, and when she looks up, she sees the ‘you okay?’ that is on the tip of his tongue. But she doesn’t want that, she doesn’t want him to ask because she is  _ more  _ than okay. And she doesn’t want the moment tarnished by him asking, so instead she presses her lips against his and murmurs “I love you” with her eyes still closed. 

 

When she opens them, his smile is stretched wider than she’s seen it since… well. Maybe ever. She hadn’t really been paying careful attention when he had been giving away his big smiles. She wishes she had been; sixteen-year-old Lydia didn’t know how much eighteen-year-old Lydia would come to savor every single smile that Stiles Stilinski offered her, just because they were so rare these days. 

 

“Whaddaya wanna do?” Stiles asks, blinking sweetly at her from across the pillow. “Cuz we can keep having a staring contest, but I feel like I’m kicking your ass, so I wanna give you an out.” 

 

Lydia considers his question for a moment. 

 

“I want pancakes,” she decides. He raises his eyebrows. 

  
“At four-thirty in the afternoon?”

 

“We could go to the pancake house and get—”    
  
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Stiles says, holding up his hand very seriously. “You had me at ‘pancake house.’”

 

He leans forward to kiss her, and then they both get out of bed. Lydia pulls the sheet up around her body as she leaves, not quite ready to be completely naked in front of him, despite the fact that they’d just had sex for the first time. 

 

And second time. 

  
And third time. 

 

Hmm, no wonder she wants pancakes. That’s a lot of energy. 

 

They get ready to go quietly, and by the time Lydia is redressed, Stiles is at the front door, leaning against the wall and just staring at the wall opposite to it, a smaller smile than before curving at his lips. She walks up to him in her heels, with her hair neatly braided and her dress somehow feeling like it’s on a different body than it had been when he’d pulled it off of her, because she feels lighter, somehow. 

  
Maybe she feels lighter because he seems like he is too. 

 

He holds her hand as they walk out to the jeep, and Lydia smiles down at her folded hands in her lap while he drives. Neither of them seem to be able to speak, but the radio isn’t on either. It’s just a quiet, content silence; one that should be awkward but isn’t because he is her best friend in the whole world. 

 

When Stiles turns off the car and pulls the key out of the ignition, neither of them get out right away, not wanting to burst the bubble that they’re in. Lydia glances over at him to find him already looking at her, flushing at being caught. 

 

“I don’t know how to act like everything is the same,” he admits, his cheeks flushing red. 

 

Lydia shakes her head. 

 

“You don’t have to.” 

 

Everything isn’t the same. Because, for the first time, she feels settled. 

 

She kisses him on the cheek before she gets out of the car, feeling something explosively. She thinks it might be happiness, but she isn’t quite certain. 

 

* * *

 

They are adults. Adults who are entering a relationship with someone who is their partner in life, who has been through everything with them, who is their best friend. So, somewhere along the way, it occurs to both Stiles and Lydia that they should be treating sex like adults. 

 

She’s not  _ exactly  _ sure how they get from ‘adults’ to ‘nobody can know about this because it’s ours,’ but she does know that it gets very old, very quickly. 

 

At first, having it as a secret feels good. It feels like they are tricking the universe into giving them more time together after they have been forced apart by circumstance so many times, over and over and over again. It’s exhausting, but  _ this _ isn’t. Happiness isn’t. Existing with him like this isn’t, and Lydia doesn’t want to do anything to upset the balance of what they have. 

 

Except they’re dodging questions and avoiding talking about it and it strikes Lydia that they aren’t adults— not really. She’s an eighteen-year-old girl who has never had friends as close as the ones she has now. She’s an eighteen-year-old girl who is falling in love like this for the very first time. She’s an eighteen-year-old girl who just wants to feel like an eighteen-year-old girl for  _ once  _ in her life. 

 

Like now, when she’s sitting in the library next to Kira, both of them hunched over their schoolwork, pens scribbling furiously against notebook paper. But while Lydia’s hand moves effortlessly across the page, filling in answers to history questions that she knew when she was ten, her head isn’t all there. She’s thinking about Stiles, and his hands, and his mouth, and she’s thinking about what it could be like to have a girlfriend who she could  _ tell  _ about those things. 

 

“Did you get number six?” Kira asks, looking up from her homework. 

 

Lydia Martin opens her mouth to tell her ‘Sherman Antitrust Act,’ and instead says “I had sex with Stiles.” 

  
Kira’s eyes widen. 

 

“You  _ did _ ?”

 

In hindsight, Lydia doesn’t actually know what sort of reaction she had expected from Kira. It’s not like this is the shock of the century. After all, she and Stiles have been dating for a while now. For all Kira knows, they could have been having sex a month ago. But the twinkle in Kira’s eyes, the excitement in her dropped-open mouth, and the way she smiles prettily from ear-to-ear make Lydia’s lips curve up as well. 

 

She finds herself nodding, her eyes suddenly getting unfocused. 

 

“Yeah. I did,” she says softly. 

 

“ _ When _ ?”

 

“A few days ago.” 

 

Kira nods brightly, just staring at Lydia, waiting for more. Lydia stares back, not sure what to do next. This is completely unprecedented, after all. 

 

“Well, I mean, that’s really great,” Kira says eventually, when Lydia doesn’t continue. 

 

“The Sherman Antitrust Act,” Lydia replies. 

 

“Thanks,” laughs Kira, pencilling it into her homework. Her pen scratches lightly against the page, and for a moment, Lydia just watches her hand moving over the worksheet. 

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Okay. So that’s girl talk. That’s normalcy. That’s what girls do with their friends when they’re not  _ bragging  _ or isolating themselves or pushing people away. It’s not so bad, Lydia thinks. It’s actually… sort of okay. 

 

“How was it?”

 

Kira’s voice cuts through her stupor. 

 

“Um, what?”

 

“The sex,” Kira says, looking at her like she’s crazy. “How was the sex?”   
  


“Oh!” Lydia’s mouth pops open and stays there, trying to come up with words. She tilts her head to the side, thinking for a moment, before moving it back and knocking her fist against the table. “You know what? It was… really different.” 

 

Kira blinks.

 

“Like… kinky different?” she whispers, looking like she doesn’t actually want to know. 

 

Lydia shakes her head emphatically. 

 

“No! No. Different like… it’s never been… that.” 

 

“That what?” coaxes Kira, clearly wanting a specific answer. 

 

“That…  _ good _ ,” Lydia admits, sliding one shoulder up. “I mean, mechanically I’m sure it was only slightly above average, but then it was Stiles and he just… it was great. It was better because it was him. Because… well. You know.”  _ Because I love him _ .     


  
“And because of how much he loves  _ you _ ,” Kira says, the smile back. “Even _ I  _ could tell, and I wasn’t even living here when he first started to like you.” 

 

Lydia smiles down at her worksheet. 

  
“True. But it’s different now,” she says quietly. 

 

“So I’ve heard,” responds Kira with amusement. 

 

And in a moment, all of it comes rushing, spilling out, much too quickly. 

 

“We did it twice and then we tried to watch a movie and ended up falling asleep and then we did it  _ again _ and then we went out for pancakes and made out in the back of his jeep and if I had to pick one day to live in for the entire rest of my life I would probably pick that one because there were a  _ million _ things that could have gone wrong, but instead it just felt normal. Like it was the way it was supposed to be.” She hesitates. “Was that too much information?”

 

Kira shakes her head. 

 

“Um, no, too much information would be one of my friends from my old school, who used to very actively and vividly describe size. So… please. Don’t ever do that.” She looks up from her homework, eyes alarmed. “I mean, unless it’s something you need to vent about. Please feel free, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to—” 

  
  
“Nope, we’re good there,” Lydia says briskly, cutting  _ that  _ off right away. “Definitely good.” 

 

Kira lets out a breath. 

  
“Oh, thank god.” 

 

They chat quietly to each other for the rest of the period, and then Kira gets up to go to her next class after the bell rings, waving Lydia goodbye as she leaves. Only a few moments later, there’s a kiss on her cheek as Stiles drops into the seat next to her, assuming position for fourth period study hall. 

 

“Hey,” he says warmly. “How’s your day been going?”

 

He’s rummaging through his bag for something, but he stops when Lydia, in the interest of full disclosure, says “I told Kira that we had sex.” 

 

Stiles raises his eyebrows, turning towards her. 

 

“You did?”

 

She studies his expression carefully, but it’s inscrutable. 

  
“Mhm.” 

He keeps nodding to himself, thinking for a moment.

  
“Um, what did you tell her?”

 

“Well, first I drew an exact model of your penis on notebook paper, using a pencil eraser for scale—” He gives her a warning look, and she snorts and takes pity on him. “I just told her it was great, Stiles.” 

 

“Great, huh?” he echoes musingly. “Great?”

 

“Great.”

  
  
“Grrrr-eeeaaaaaat!” Stiles says like Tony the Tiger, pumping his fist for emphasis.

 

Lydia pats his arm sympathetically. 

 

“And it’s too bad that it was the last time.” 

 

His eyes widen. 

  
“What? Come on! That was a great impression!” 

 

“The finesse of the impression isn’t the problem here.” 

 

“Maybe there’s no problem at all. Maybe you’re looking to  _ create _ a problem because you’re secretly extremely turned on by my Tony the Tiger impression and that scares you.” 

 

“Oh, you’re right. I’ve never been able to resist him.” 

 

He grabs her hand, holding it up to his heart. 

 

“And that’s why that dude is my hero,” he says seriously. She scoffs, tugging her hand out of his grasp but kissing him on the mouth to soften it. “Um,” Stiles says. “If we’re being honest—”    
  


“Oh no,” Lydia says, pulling away. “What did you do?”

 

“I told Scott.” 

  
  
Lydia rolls her eyes. 

 

“So much for keeping it to ourselves.” 

  
He shrugs. 

  
“I don’t actually know why either of us thought I could do that. You’ve met me, right?” 

 

“How long did it take for you to tell him?”

 

Stiles’ eyes slide up towards the ceiling. 

 

“Well, let’s think. Yesterday was Tuesday, so… yeah, about ten minutes after I dropped you off at home after the pancakes.” 

 

She salutes him ironically. 

 

“Good thing you’re cute, Stilinski.”    


  
“And, according to some recent reviews, I’m also ‘great.’” 

 

“Well,” Lydia says lightly. “There’s always room for improvement.” 

  
  
One of his eyebrows slides up as he leans close, his voice getting huskier. 

 

“My dad’s not home. You wanna go try to get better right now?”

 

Lydia’s eyes slide left and right as she tries to see if there’s anybody around to judge her. Luckily, most of the pack is in class and Mason is all the way across the library, sitting on the floor amongst a pile of books, his eyes shifting across the pages so quickly that she’s not quite certain he’s actually going to be retaining any information. 

 

“Let’s go,” she agrees, grabbing his hand and ignoring his loud laugh as she tugs on it impatiently. 

 

They leave the library. 

 

Together. 

 


End file.
